You never look into my eyes any more
by sebastienne
Summary: aragorn/legolas fluff. based on something that never even happened in the book. but then again, i don't ship them in the books. review?
1. Elvish intuition

Legolas POV  
  
When they said you had fallen I could not accept it. But there was no trace of you, and nothing below but the surf-specked river, deep in the ravine. No mortal man could have survived that fall. Why could I not have taken the fall for you? I would gladly have done so. Had I seen you falling, I could have made use of all my affinities with nature. I could have saved you. I could have called a great eagle to catch you, persuaded the razor-sharp rocks to move aside, made the water into a pillow soft as down to catch you. And I would gladly have done any of these - I just didn't know.  
  
I was just coming to terms with the fact that I would never see you handle a sword again, that I would never look at your tangled hair and think 'take a shower, man!'. I knew that I was never now going to see you take your rightful place as King. And it was this that broke my heart - not personal longing. I knew that, even had you lived, there was no way you could have returned my feelings. But to see you as King of Gondor . . . that was what the war of the ring was about for me. Once Frodo got all heroic and decided to go it alone, that was out of my hands and those of all the fellowship for ever. And the battle between good and evil? Well, I knew that if Sauron got the ring, it wouldn't matter how many battles we won or lost. And I also knew, that if Frodo managed to destroy the ring, then everything would be made right. In all the battles I fought with only one purpose - to protect you.  
  
So when I found I had failed in my self-appointed task . . . I was devastated.  
  
To see the tears in Eowyn's eyes . . . and imagine those in Arwen's . . . made me remember just how heterosexual you really were. And how loved, by so many people . . . just as a real King ought to be. The war was lost without you.  
  
No, without you there WAS no war.  
  
And then you were there. Hallucination, I thought, dementia, mirage . . . I was finally going mad.  
  
But it WAS you . . . looking unbearably noble, beaten and bruised, bleeding from your shoulder . . . how I longed to take you aside and practice elvish medicine . . . but there was no time. You spoke of ten thousand orcs, arriving by nightfall. Helm's Deep began to prepare for siege.  
  
In the ensuing preparations, I got time to speak to you only briefly. I wanted more than anything just to take you in my arms and hold you close, away from the threat of any further harm. But I also practised self- restraint, as I have always done. I grasped your shoulder, beaming . . . had you looked, I'm sure you would have seen the relief in my eyes, the renewed purpose, the love. But you didn't.  
  
You never look into my eyes any more.  
  
It makes me paranoid, it makes me think you might know how I feel about you. If you ever did, I would be mortified.  
  
My feelings for you made me reckless in the battle at Helm's Deep. Somehow, miraculously, you managed not to get yourself killed. You were so noble it sometimes verged on suicidal - throwing yourself out into a swarm of Orcs, riding out so courageously with King Theoden. I had to check myself - I was watching you more than I was fighting.  
  
I was not going to let you fall again. 


	2. Rampantly heterosexual?

Aragorn POV  
  
iWhen I saw you at the Council of Elrond, I could tell you were different from the other Elves. You had more grace, if such a thing is possible, and more beauty.  
  
When it was decided you were to join the fellowship I was worried - would I be able to fulfil my duty to the ring-bearer with you always present?  
  
I needn't have worried. You were always so caring, yet rational. You knew when a level-headed attitude was needed, but also understood that sometimes emotion should be allowed to reign. Seeing this in you, I knew that this quest was no place for my wayward emotions.  
  
I resolved to be strong, and serve the cause of the destruction of the ring. I felt sure I would get over my silly infatuation with you in time. How could it be more than physical . . . ? I hardly knew you!  
  
But as the days went on, and Frodo and Sam took their own course, I began to feel as if there was more to what I was feeling than mere infatuation.  
  
All the girls I had ever loved were nothing compared to you. It confused me, to remember Arwen's soft kiss only as a signifier as to how . . . other . . . elves might kiss. It was so strange, so unknown. I had always thought of myself as the manly protector, I mean I was a KING for goodness' sake . . .  
  
But when the future began to look more and more bleak, as darker and darker clouds began to gather above the shadowed land of Mordor, I did not feel like a masculine protector any more. I wanted to fall into your arms and let you comfort me. I try so hard to be aloof, as if none of the incessant death and suffering gets to me . . . but it does!  
  
It hurts me every day, to see people I have cared about suffering and dying for so little.  
  
You were the only one who seemed to understand. You would always talk to me when I seemed depressed, in the soft, soothing tones of Quenya. You invariably knew when I needed you.  
  
Some kind of elvish intuition I guess.  
  
And, I admit it; I let my stupid infatuation grow out of all proportion. I mean, I am so very openly heterosexual. Masculine, dominant, ready to fight for what I believe in . . .  
  
In fact, you might almost say I was a macho stereotype - but hey, I'm proud of it.  
  
Why, then, this feeling like if I didn't have you around I might go crazy?  
  
This feeling like, when I am on the verge of tears, your voice is the only voice that can soothe me?  
  
Why, then, this love? When you thought I had died, falling from that cliff, I wonder how you felt?  
  
I spent many a sleepless night imagining that you cared. Hoping that you might have felt a sense of loss, or longing . . .  
  
But it is pointless. Futile.  
  
When I saw you as I 'came back from the dead', I imagined, for a moment, a glint of elation in your eyes . . .  
  
But I know it was just that - my imagination.  
  
As we gripped each other's shoulders in a suitably manly greeting, I longed to fall into your arms and weep at all the tragedy I have seen. Had you looked, I'm sure you would have seen longing in my eyes. You would have seen the sense of safety I have with you, perhaps you would have seen the . . . love . . . I hold for you. But you didn't.  
  
You never look into my eyes any more.  
  
It makes me paranoid, it makes me think you might know how I feel about you. If you ever did, I would be mortified.  
  
I practically ran away from you, with some mumbled excuse about preparing for battle. I was not going to let you see how much you affect me, emotionally.  
  
I tried so hard, at the battle of Helm's Deep, to put you out of my mind. Ten thousand orcs should be enough to instil forgetfulness in the most rememberful of men. But every time I turned around, you were there. As if you were taunting me by your beauty and graceful presence.  
  
I was not going to let you put me off - I had to be manly and aggressive, it's just what is expected of me.  
  
I am, after all, the rightful King of Gondor.  
  
Rampantly heterosexual. 


End file.
